Touch

In your village today, I held your baby. He is so tiny, so perfect.

I glance around the crazy home he has been born into.

It’s not just the dirty floor we sit on, or the man smoking in the corner.

It’s not just the smell of too many bodies living in one place.

It’s the spiritual darkness that permeates this dim room.

It’s the despair in the grandmother’s eye.

But you don’t seem worried like me. This is all you know.

Your baby: everyone is afraid to touch him. He’s so tiny they might hurt him.

I’m not afraid. I know he won’t break. Not from a gentle touch.

A gentle touch.

People don’t touch very much around here do they?

The first time we met, I was surprised. I shook hands with your mother, but no one else.

And now, as I cuddle the tiniest little baby in my arms, I try to remember.

Do you touch at all?

I have seen people slap…a lot. Parents slapping children. Children slapping each other.

In fact, come to think of it, I myself have been slapped in the face by one of the kids!

Jesus used touch.

When Jesus touched, He healed the broken. When Jesus touched, He blessed the children.

You are broken. How can I show you that Jesus heals?

You have children. How can I bless your children with Jesus' love?

You’ve never felt a loving touch. You’ve never felt His healing touch.

Will you let me get close? Will you let me pat your shoulder, hug you, hold your hand?

It’s a risk for me too you know. The last time you came close, you tried to steal from my purse.

The last time I leaned in close, I think I got lice.

But I am here to share the love of Jesus. And Jesus touched people.

So I will hold your baby, I will hold your hand.

And if need be, take another slap on the face.

Jesus offers you healing and blessing.

It’s a gentle touch.

Will you accept it?